Brad lowered his voice. “But Penny?” he whined.
“Man. Come on. She’s not that bad looking and I need you to do this because Dad will be more likely to rent a limo if there are four of us going instead of just me and Tabitha,” I pleaded.
Brad hesitated before finally sighing. “Fine. I suppose she’s better than nothing.” He glanced at Penelope standing next to Tabitha. “I hope she doesn’t wear that ugly pink sweater.”
“Oh come on, Brad, you never know. She might turn out to be your Cinderella.” I poked him with my elbow as we aimed for our lockers.
“Ha!” Brad barked. “I’ll take a sledgehammer to that glass slipper before I touch Penny’s foot.”
I laughed. Brad could always find humor in just about any situation.
As we walked past the group of girls, I could tell from the look on Penelope’s face she wasn’t exactly thrilled with the news of her upcoming night out with Brad. I could only guess that Tabitha applied her Queen of the Roost power to get her to agree. Thankfully, it seemed Brad was too preoccupied with his own thoughts to notice.
“So, what are we going to do this weekend?” he asked.
“Swimming, I guess. Make sure you grab your swimsuit when we stop by your house after school. I need the practice for the swim meet next week.”
“Man, you know I can’t swim like you,” he complained.
“I know, but I need competition and you’re all I have.” I shrugged.
He huffed. “Gee. Thanks.”
I ran my eyes over Brad. His bulkier frame weighed him down in the water, and he really didn’t offer much in the way of competition for me, but at least he gave me the feeling of having competition which is what I needed. Having an indoor heated swimming pool at home afforded me the advantage of being able to practice any time, all year round, which definitely helped with my swim times. I supposed one of the benefits of having a psychiatrist for a mother and an executive for a father was that they could afford a big house with an indoor pool. I know we were considered rich by most people’s definition, but my parents, especially my mother, refused to act like it. My parents weren’t pretentious. My mom grew up poor and she said she would never raise a son that acted like some of the children of her and dad’s colleagues. When Dad wanted to send me to the most prestigious private school in town, my mom refused and told him I would attend public school. She claimed that I needed to see how ninety-eight percent of the children in this country lived in order to appreciate how fortunate I was.
Going to public school did help me realize one thing: I cannot stand to be around spoiled rich kids. All they want to do is show off their expensive new toys and talk about their fancy vacations around the world. A few times I’d taken Brad along to some of Dad’s work-related family functions. We would sit back and make fun of their snobbish behavior. One time Brad came up with the idea that we should play along. He told everyone that his father was the inventor of the toilet plunger and spent the entire time talking in a posh accent while casually dropping toilet puns into his conversation. I almost lost it when a group of trust-fund kids were bragging about their bank accounts and Brad mentioned his father liked to drop off a large deposit every morning.
I grinned to myself and glanced to my left at Brad, who was picking at his worn sleeve cuff.
“You want to go see The Wicker Man tonight?” I asked. “I heard it’s good.”
“What’s it rated?” Brad wiggled his fingers, letting the string fall to the floor.
“R. I was hoping Pauline could sneak us in through the back?” I asked referring to Brad’s oldest stepsister.
Out of Brad’s entire stepfamily, Pauline was the only one that seemed to actually care about Brad. She lived in an apartment across town and attended nursing school during the day and worked at the theater at night. She and her boyfriend Gary moved in together a few months ago, much to the protest of Brad’s parents. Brad’s stepfather claimed they were “living in sin”. I admit, they were the first couple I’ve ever known to actually live together and not be married, but I guess if you’re happy with each other, why do you need some legal document like a marriage license to recognize it?
“Maybe,” Brad answered, interrupting my thoughts.
I noticed he seemed distracted as we stopped in front of the school trophy case. “You don’t seem too excited about it.” He bent down to tie his shoe.
“I don’t know. You know I’m not crazy about scary movies,” he replied as I stared at the photo of last year’s championship football team sitting in a frame in the trophy case, lamenting the fact that Brad wasn’t in the picture. He was such a great player.
“Oh come on, Brad.” My attention went back to him. “I heard there’s a scene where a bunch of girls dance naked.” I crinkled my eyes as he stood up, trying to build his excitement at seeing exposed boobs.
“Eh.” He shrugged and we continued our walk.
After a few steps, I glanced at Brad again and could see he was a million miles away.
“What are you thinking so hard about?” I asked.
“I don’t have anything to wear to the dance.” He stopped and looked at me. I could see the worry etched on his face.
“Pfft. Is that all? You can borrow one of my tuxes.” I had almost said “old” tuxes, but thought that might make Brad feel worse. “That turquoise one my Grandpa Stuart bought for me earlier this summer to attend that military ball with him and Grandma is too big for me, but it should fit you perfectly.”
The corner of his mouth pulled to the side giving me an uncertain look. “Do you ever get tired of me because I’m poor?”
“No!” I answered, taken aback. “Why would you even ask me that?”
“I don’t know.” He shrugged. “It’s just you could have friends that don’t have to borrow your shit all the time or at least could buy their own Coke and popcorn at the movies.”
“Brad.” I shook my head, not understanding where this was coming from. “No. You’re my best friend.”
Brad nodded. “I guess.” He sounded depressed.
“Besides, we always share a bucket of popcorn. You know if I eat too much of that fake butter it gives me the runs,” I joked, trying to cheer him up.
“I guess.” He lifted the corners of his mouth ever so slightly.
“Are you okay, buddy?” I asked with concern in my voice.
“Yeah.” He looked up at the clock on the wall. “I need to get to class. I’ll see you after school.”
“Okay, man.” I tilted my head and looked at him concerned. “You sure you’re okay?”
He nodded and scurried away.
I stood and watched as Brad dodged his way through the crowd of students. In all our years of friendship, Brad rarely brought up the differences in our parents’ income in regards to our friendship. I knew Brad’s family was poor, but it never made any difference to me. I’d rather have a not-so-well-off friend like Brad than a dozen rich friends where friendships are based on how many yachts your parents own.
• • •
It was well after nine p.m. when Brad and I arrived back at my house from the movies. Mom, sitting in her favorite chair drinking a cup of hot tea and writing, looked up as we entered into the den.
“Hi, guys,” she greeted.
“Hi, Mrs. Stuart,” Brad returned.
“So, what did you boys end up seeing?” she asked as she removed her reading glasses, folded them, and clipped them on the neck of her blouse.
Brad and I looked at each other, and at the same time yelled, “American Graffiti.”
Although I talked Brad into watching The Wicker Man, I certainly didn’t want Mom to know we watched a movie containing nudity. While most moms wouldn’t have known The Wicker Man might contain content inappropriate for kids of a certain age, my mother read a lot, including the entertainment section of the daily newspaper.
“Again?” She laughed. Brad and I had both seen that movie at least three times since it came out.
&nbs
p; “That movie never gets old.” I laughed.
“Yeah, Mrs. Stuart. It’s the funniest movie I’ve seen in a long time,” Brad added.
“I’ve told Mr. Stuart that I’ve wanted us to go and see it, but it seems every time we plan it, something comes up with his work.” Mom’s smile quickly faded.
I gave her a sympathetic look. “Isn’t Dad going to be home this weekend?”
“Yes. So he says.” She forced a smile.
“Maybe you guys can go then,” I suggested, knowing that it probably wouldn’t happen.
Dad worked a lot. I knew how much I missed him and I was sure it was worse for Mom. My parents have been married for twenty years, but when they were together, they still acted like newlyweds. I’ve never seen a couple so much in love, especially compared to Brad’s parents who were always fighting. I’ve only seen my parents argue once in my life, and that was due to my father having to miss some community service banquet where my mother received an award for her volunteer work. I remembered how upset Mom was that he was called away by his boss, Mr. Logan, for an “emergency” at the last minute.
“Yeah, maybe.” I could hear the sadness in her voice.
“Well, if Dad won’t take you to see it, I will.” I offered in an attempt to cheer her up. “I mean, if you don’t mind riding on the handlebars of my bike.” I shrugged.
Mom chuckled. “I haven’t done that in thirty years.” She ran her hand through her salt and pepper hair. “I think those days are behind me.”
“You’ll never know until you try.” I cocked my head to the side and gave her a big grin.
“I’ll think about it, and thanks for the offer.”
“Anytime.” I walked over and gave her a peck on the cheek as she placed her hand on the back of my neck and patted.
“You’re a good son.” She returned the peck, making me feel guilty over lying about the movie I had just seen.
I stood back and focused on Brad who stood grinning from ear to ear. “You ready to head upstairs?”
“Yep. Goodnight, Mrs. Stuart.”
“Goodnight, Brad,” she replied, reaching for her glasses again and putting them on.
“Goodnight, Mom.” I hollered as I exited. “Love you.”
“Love you too, honey.”
• • •
Entering my room, Brad immediately went to my desk chair and flopped down and I did the same on the bed. Flipping over onto my back, I spread-eagled and stared up at the ceiling thinking about that movie we had seen earlier.
“You know, I hated the way that movie ended.” I crossed my arms over my chest.
“Yeah, me too. So, what do you want to do now?” Brad asked as he picked up the Cornelius action figure from my Planet of the Apes collection that I had yet to place in its designated spot on my bookshelf.
“Umm…want to play War?” I suggested.
War was one of our favorite games to play. Sure, it was simple and childish, but we had been playing it since we were little kids. It was kind of like our “game.”
“I guess.” Brad positioned the arms of the plastic figure and hung him from the edge of my desk.
“Cool.” I sat up. “I’m going to get ready for bed if you want to grab the cards off the top of the bookcase.” I pointed.
“Cool.” He stood up.
I entered the adjoining bathroom where I proceeded to strip down to my briefs. I stood back from the mirror that ran along the wall behind the vanity. I flexed my arms slightly and started imagining the way that Tabitha saw me. Thanks to my swimming, I had really toned up; finally having a visible set of defined abs that I worked on all last summer. My pecs were significantly more muscular than they were a year ago. Not to sound too vain, but I was proud of my body. I’ve studied the other guys in the locker room and I was definitely in better shape than most of them.
I ran my fingers through the thick, black trail of hair just below my navel. I was beginning to think the only hair I was ever going to have on my upper body was under my arms, but finally puberty hit me full-force this past year and it couldn’t have been soon enough for me. I’d even started growing chest hair. I beamed at the one part of my anatomy I was most proud of before I turned off the light and exited.
My eyes focused on Brad sitting on the floor in his blue pajamas shuffling the cards. His eyes widened as he looked up at me.
“Umm. Where’s your pajamas?” His voice quivered slightly as I sat down in front of him in a lotus position.
“Only little kids and old men wear pajamas.” I smirked. “No offense.”
Brad remained silent as he began dealing the deck into two even stacks, fumbling them every so often. I thought it odd that Brad didn’t have his usual snappy comeback after a good putdown. Catching a glimpse of his face as he paused to push his long hair back over his shoulder, I could see that he was brooding again.
I cocked my head to the side. “What’s wrong with you?”
“Nothing. It’s just a little weird playing cards with you sitting there practically naked.” I noticed he refused to look up at me, instead keeping his eyes glued to the cards he was having a hard time dealing.
“Practically naked? Dude. You’ve seen me in my underwear hundreds of times. What’s the big deal?” I leaned back on my elbows.
“I don’t know.” He shrugged as he dealt the last card. “It’s just weird that you suddenly want to ‘hang out’ in your underwear.”
“Dang, dude. Since when do you care about modesty? We used to take baths together.” I threw back my head and laughed, remembering those days when we were little and played in the creek beside my house. We liked to cover ourselves in mud from head to toe. Mom used to make us strip at the door and head directly to the bathtub.
“That was a long time ago,” he said with a serious tone in his voice.
“Don’t be such a prude, Brad.” I sat back up and placed my hand on my stack and readied myself to turn over the first card.
Acting as though he hadn’t heard me, he put his hand on his own pile of cards. “Are you ready?”
“Yep,” he snipped.
“One…two…three…war!” we said in unison as I flipped over a jack and Brad flipped over an ace.
Not saying a word, he grabbed my card, keeping his eyes firmly on the floor. Since I had sat down, he hadn’t looked at me once. I struggled to reason why he seemed to be ignoring me all of a sudden and why my underwear had suddenly thrown him back into his mopey mood. I leaned my head down and turned it up to look at him.
“Why are you acting so weird?” I asked as his eyes remained focused on the floor.
“I’m not acting weird.” He was obviously irritated.
“Why won’t you look at me?” I asked, determined to get an answer before we continued the game.
Brad finally lifted his eyes and met mine for a brief second. “There. I looked at you. Now, can we finish this game?” he snapped before looking back down.
Seeing as once again I wasn’t going to get any answers from him, I straightened back up. “Fine, be that way then,” I snapped back placing my hand on my stack.
An awkward silence filled the room as we finished the one game. Occasionally I’d catch his eyes wandering around the room, but never once did they land on me. I was beginning to think he must have found my body quite repulsive.
Immediately after the last card was played, Brad jumped up and headed straight to the bathroom. I moved to the bed and waited for him to finish his business. I heard the toilet flush, water running in the sink, and finally the sound of him spitting after brushing his teeth.
A few seconds later, the door flew open. My eyes followed him as he marched directly to his side of the bed, threw back the bedspread, and climbed under the covers.
He let out a long sigh and folded his arms behind his head never once looking at me.
I sat a few seconds watching him stare at the ceiling, occasionally scratching under his arm; but remaining in the same position.
Seeing h
e wasn’t going to speak to me, I made my final visit to the toilet, flipped off the overhead light, and copied Brad’s position. The tension in the room was thick enough to cut with a knife, and I still had no idea why it existed in the first place.
Unable to stand any more of his silent treatment, I relented. “Do you want me to put on my pajamas?” I asked, going back to the beginning of this whole “argument” or whatever it was we were having.
“Just forget it. It’s not important.” He sighed.
“Damnit, Brad! What’s wrong with you?” I eyeballed him and waited for his answer to why he was so sullen.
“Nothing. Just having a bad day,” he answered, still refusing to look at me.
“Did I make you mad about something?”
When it came to fighting with Brad, I could count on one hand the number of times we fought over the years. The only real one we ever had happened when we were both ten and he deliberately broke my toy Lost in Space spaceship because he was upset that his parents couldn’t afford to buy him the one toy he really wanted for his birthday. We didn’t speak to each other for three days. That was until my mom couldn’t stand seeing two best friends not talking and went out and bought me a replacement, plus a second one just for Brad.
“No. You wouldn’t understand.”
“Would you quit telling me ‘I wouldn’t understand’ and just try me?” I said with exasperation in my voice.
“I don’t want to talk about it, Shawn. I’m just ready to go to sleep,” he slammed his palm against the mattress before turning his back to me.
“Whatever,” I replied, turning my back to him. I tried to decide whether to keep pushing him to talk, but I knew it wouldn’t do any good. If there’s one thing I knew about Brad, he won’t talk until he’s ready, and all the coaxing in the world will not get him to open up.
This situation reminded me of last year when he was failing Algebra. He was so worried that I would think he was dumb, he refused to ask for my help, although he knew it was my best subject. It was only when Mr. Birken told him if he didn’t pass the class and he would fail ninth grade did he finally ask for my help. This time I felt whatever was bothering him went beyond that. I felt both angry and hurt that he wouldn’t open up to me. I just wanted to be there for him.
A Gay Polyester High School Romance Page 3
